


come morning light

by orphan_account



Series: (but that's alright) because I like the way it hurts [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dom/sub Play, Established Relationship, M/M, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 22:49:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7659964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has a favor to ask of Bucky before he ships out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	come morning light

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** : I own nothing.

Steve is waiting for Bucky when he finally comes home in the early hours of the morning. He’s stripped down to his underclothes and is holding one of Bucky’s belts, doubled over, in his hand. 

Bucky is instantly on the alert. “I assume this is about that fight I interrupted earlier,” he says casually, as if the sight of Steve, chin up and jaw clenched, clutching his thickest belt in a death-grip isn’t enough to have him half-hard already, his erection forming an obvious tent in his pants.

“It is,” Steve confirms through gritted teeth. It’s easier when Bucky initiates, telling him what he’s done wrong and that he must be punished. It’s so much harder to ask, to say _this is what I need. Will you do it for me?_

“You know I’d do anything for you, pal,” says Bucky, moving to stand in front of Steve in order to pry the belt from his hands. “And if this is what you need, then I’m happy to do it. Now, how many do you think you deserve?” He slaps the belt menacingly against his thigh, only to hide a wince at the sharp, sudden pain that blooms as a result, gone in an instant but enough to make him wonder how Steve manages to withstand half a dozen licks of the belt against his bare ass.

“As many as I can handle,” Steve replies, “This isn’t just about the fight, Buck. I want something to remember you by when you leave tomorrow. I want your mark to stay with me for as long as possible, to remind me of who I belong to — and that someone belongs to me, too. Someone cares about me enough to keep me in line and correct me when I stray.”

“Have it your own way, punk.” Bucky shrugs resignedly. “Just remember that you asked for this when you can’t sit down for the next week or so. Bend over.”

Steve obeys without question, arranging himself over the arm of their couch and bracing himself on his elbows with his ass in the air; he grabs a throw-pillow to bury his face in so as to muffle the sound of his cries — both for the sake of the neighbors and of Bucky; Steve will do whatever he can to lessen Bucky’s sense of guilt. He feels Bucky come to stand behind him and inhales sharply when Bucky suddenly pulls his boxers down all the way to his ankles. He’s effectively trapped now, unable to resist the barrage of blows that Bucky will soon be raining down on him.

“No need to count,” says Bucky, placing the length of the doubled-up belt across Steve’s skinny ass. “No need to say anything, actually, except your safeword. What is it, again?”

“Red,” Steve mumbles from the depth of the pillow he’s already got his face buried in.

“Good boy.” Bucky’s quick to praise him. “I love you, Stevie.”

This is a tradition, of sorts: their last friendly exchange of words before Steve’s punishment starts in earnest, and until Bucky calls time and stops laying into Steve with his belt.

“I know, Buck,” says Steve, good-naturedly exasperated. “I love you, too. Now get on with it.”

Bucky acquiesces, lashing Steve smartly across first one buttock and then the other. Steve squeaks in surprise and fidgets in an effort to escape the unrelenting sting, but to no avail. He quickly settles and Bucky snaps the belt down across his ass again with a resounding _thwack!_ that startles a gasp from Steve and raises him on the tips of his toes. Bucky waits for him to regain control before lashing Steve down low, where his ass and his thighs meet. Then, before Steve has fully recovered, Bucky lands two blows in quick succession across the back of his thighs. This brings Steve to his feet, clutching his rear end with both hands and howling in agony.

The pair usually stops after half a dozen strokes, but Steve wants something to remember Bucky by and by god he’s going to get what he asked for. “Bend back over, Rogers,” orders Bucky. “I know you can take more than that.”

“Yessir,” pants Steve, obediently bending back over and presenting his ass for the kiss of Bucky’s belt.

Steve’s mode of address gives Bucky pause. They’ve never called each other by titles when doing this before. Bucky’s known some couples who’ve been in to that sort of thing, but it never seemed to fit with his and Steve’s relationship. Perhaps that’s all different now. Perhaps his going off to war, without Steve, has changed more than he thought or was aware of.

“No need for that, Stevie,” says Bucky, softening slightly. “I’ll give you what you want, promise.” He observes his handiwork so far — the lightly-pinked skin that will have faded by morning — and vows to turn Steve’s ass lobster-red, perhaps leave him nursing a few bruises.

The next half-dozen strokes are to Steve’s left buttock, delivered without mercy; the next half dozen are to his right and delivered in a similar fashion, while the following dozen are evenly distributed to the backs of his thighs. By now Steve’s had thirty strokes in total, and still panting for more, though his ass is bright red and the skin’s hot to touch.

“Had enough yet, Stevie?” asks Bucky, panting for breath himself from the exertion of swinging his belt over and over again.

“No,” Steve moans through the tears streaming down his face. He’s crying from more than just the beating: he’s realized — has known all along, really — that Bucky will be leaving soon and might not come back. So if he can keep Bucky distracted with thrashing (and eventually, fucking) him, and thereby postpone the inevitable, then he will consider the sacrifice well worth it. At the very least he’ll have an impressive set of welts and bruises that might even last until the war is over and Bucky is back home to remind him of who owns his ass.

Bucky’s worried about Steve. He’s never taken this much at one time before. Bucky wonders if this is meant to be helping Steve cope without him after he leaves tomorrow. Whether that’s his design or not, Bucky will play along with Steve for as long as he wants. When have they been able to deny each other anything?

Steve’s got his ass stuck out as far as he can manage without either moving out of position across the arm of the couch or lifting his head from the shelter of his pillow. He wants Bucky to mark him up, to whip him raw and bloody, and then to take him from behind, hard and fast, slow and sweet. He’s offering himself up to Bucky wholeheartedly and unreservedly, everything he is or ever will be. All of it is Bucky’s, all of it for the taking, all for Bucky’s pleasure.

“Bucky, _please_. . .” Steve whimpers, wiggling his ass in an enticing manner that never fails to drive Bucky wild, especially after the jiggling flesh has already been reddened by the attentions of his belt.

Bucky responds as Steve expected and had anticipated: he undoubles the belt and lets Steve have the full length of it across his ass, the belt-tip striking home in the center of Steve’s right buttock. Standing directly behind him, Bucky swings his hand back-and-forth to cover the entire length of Steve’s buttocks from top to bottom, even landing a few in the cleft of his ass, and ends by landing several cutting strokes on the sensitive curve of where buttocks meet thighs.

Finally setting his belt aside, Bucky stretches out a tentative hand and places it against the blazing skin of Steve’s ass. “Alright there, pal? Can I get you anything? Ice? Arnica cream?”

“I’m fine, Buck,” whines Steve, “Enough with the questions. Will you just fuck me already? That’s what this has all been leading up to.”

“Impatient punk,” mutters Bucky with a fond, but gentle, pat to Steve’s ass. He’ll definitely be feeling the after-effects — both of the whipping and the impending fucking — in the days to come. Bucky only hopes that it’ll be enough to sustain Steve until they’re together again and he’s back home for good.

Their coupling is in turns slow and fast, harsh and tender. After thoroughly prepping Steve with lube-slicked fingers, while simultaneously kissing along the bony knobs of his spine, Bucky eases past the initial point of penetration before ramming his cock in to the hilt and drawing a mangled gasp from Steve. At that, Bucky forgets all else and lets himself go completely: he uses Steve, roughly and unashamedly; meanwhile, Steve writhes beneath him, arching his body and pushing his abused ass back to meet the next thrust of Bucky’s hips.

They come almost as one, and collapse in a heap on the couch afterwards, both breathing heavily. Bucky peppers kisses along the base of Steve’s hairline. “Forgive me?” he whispers.

“What for?” Steve whispers back. They never speak loudly after sex; this time is sacred to them.

“For getting carried away,” Bucky replies, “Both before and just now. I may have gone a little overboard.”

“I wasn’t complaining, now, was I?” sasses Steve, shooting a smirk over his shoulder at Bucky.

“Quiet, you,” he mutters, ruffling Steve’s hair fondly and planting a big, smacking kiss on the top of his head. “Love you, Stevie.”

“Love you, too, Buck. Now get off me; you weigh a ton.”

Bucky complies and sweeps Steve up into his arms, carrying him to bed bridal-style, where he tucks the covers in around Steve before climbing in after him and spooning from behind. Steve’s ass is still pulsating with heat (he always refuses treatment, _after_ ). Bucky cups one tender buttock with his hand in a possessive gesture meant to signify ownership and dominance while waiting for Steve to fall asleep.

He’ll be gone by morning’s light.


End file.
